These men ex absurdo, conclusions may draw,
Perpetual motion they never could find;
Not one of the set, lads, can balance a straw,
And longitude seeking is hunting the wind.

Then lay by your books, lads, &c.

If we study at all, let us study the means

To make ourselves friends, and to keep them when made; Learn to value the blessings kind heaven ordains,

To make others happy, let that be our trade.

Finale.

Let each day be better than each day before,

Without pain or sorrow,

To-day or to-morrow,

May we live, my good lads, to see many days more.

A DREADFUL FIT OF RHEUMATISM.

Two Cantabs, brothers, named Whiter, one the learned author of Etymologicum Magnum, the other an amiable divine; both were remarkable, the one for being six, the other about five feet in height. The taller was eccentric and often absent in his habits, the other a wag. Both were invited to the same party, and the taller being first ready, slipped on the coat of the shorter, and wended his way into a crowded room of fashionables, to whom his eccentricities being familiar, they were not much surprised at seeing him encased in a coat, the tail of which scarcely reached his hips, whilst the sleeves ran short of his elbows; in fact, it was a perfect strait jacket, and he had not been long seated before he began to complain to every body that he was suffering from a dreadful fit of rheumatism. One or two suggested the tightness of his coat as the cause of his pain; but he remained rheumatic in spite of them, till his brother's approach threw the whole party into a fit of convulsive laughter, as he came sailing into the room, his coat-tails sweeping the room, en traine, and his arms performing the like service on either side, as he exclaimed, to his astonished brother, "Why, Bob, you have got my coat on!" Bob then discovered that his friends' hints bordered on the truth, and the two ex

changed garments forthwith, to the amusement of all present.

DR. PARR AN INGRATE.

The Doctor was once staying with the late great and good Mr. Roscoe, when many of the most distinguished Whigs were his guests also, out of compliment to whom the Doctor forbore to indulge in his customary after-dinner pipe. At length, when wine and words had circulated briskly, and twilight began to set in, he insisted upon mounting to his own room to have a whiff solus. Having groped his way up stairs, somewhat exhausted with the effort, he threw himself into what he took to be an arm-chair. Suddenly the ears of the party were assailed with awful moans and groans, as of some one in tribulation. Mr. Roscoe hastened to learn the cause, and no sooner reached the stairs' foot, than he heard the Doctor calling lustily for his man John, adding, in more supplicatory accents, "Will nobody help a Christian man in distress! Will nobody help a Christian man in distress!" Mr. Roscoe mounted to the rescue, but could not forbear a hearty laugh, as he beheld Dr. P. locked in the close embrace of a large oldfashioned grate, which he had mistaken for an arm-chair, and from which he was in vain struggling to relieve himself.

MON DIEU-LE DIABLE.

When Robert the Devil was first produced at Paris, and the opera going folk were on the qui vive for the promised appearance of the Prince of Darkness, a certain Cantab, the facial line of whose countenance bordered on the demoniacal, went to see him make his bow to a Parisian audience, and happened to enter the same loge from whence a Parisian belle was anxiously watching the entrée of Monsieur Le Robert. Attracted by the creaking of the loge door, on suddenly turning her head in its direction, she caught a glimpse of our Cambridge friend, and was

so forcibly struck with the expression of his countenance, that she went into hysterics, exclaiming, "Mon Dieu! Le Diable!"

SOME CRITICAL CIVILITIES.

The famous editor of Demosthenes, John Taylor, D. D. being accused of saying Bishop Warburton was no scholar, denied it, but owned he always thought so. Upon this Warburton called him "The Learned Dunce." When Parr, in the British Critic for 1795, called Porson "a giant in literature," and "a prodigy in intellect," the Professor took it in dudgeon, and said, "What right has any one to tell the height of a man he cannot measure?" A Dutch commentator having called Bentley "Egregius" and "'Orávu," "What right, (said the Doctor) has that fellow to quote me; "does he think that I will set my pearls in his dunghill?" Baxter, in the second edition of his Horace, said the great Bentley seemed to him "rather to have buried Horace under a heap of rubbish than to have illustrated him." And

BENTLEY SAID OF JOSHUA BARNES,

Who, to please his religious wife, composed a Greek ode to prove King Solomon wrote Homer's Iliad, that he was """Ovos πpòs λúpav-Asinus ad Lyram:"

Joshua replied, that they who said this of him had not understanding enough to be poets, or wanted the Ὁ νοῦς πρὸς λύραν.

SIR BUSICK AND SIR ISAAC AGAIN.

I have before spoken of these two Cambridge knights and rival physicians, but there yet remains to be told of them, that on their meeting each other, perchance, in the street or the senate house, the latter addressing his rival in an ironical speech of condolence, to the effect, "I regret

to hear you are ill, Sir Busick." "Sir, I sick!” (Sir Isaac) retorted the wit, "I never was better in my life!" Many of my readers have no doubt seen the anecdote of Voltaire's building a church, and causing to be engraved on the front thereof, the vain record,

"Voltaire erexit hoc Templum Deo."

A similar spirit seized a Mr. COLE of Cambridge, who left money either to erect the church or the steeple of St. Clement's, in Bridge-street, of that town, on condition that his name was placed on the front of it. The condition was complied with to the letter, thus, by the tasteful judgment of some Cambridge wag:

COLE: DEUM.

An admirably turned pun, which, I may add, for the benefit of my English readers, signifies, Worship God. I have already noticed the mathematical "Pons Asinorum" of our mother of Cambridge. One of her waggish sons has likewise contrived, for their amusement, a classical Pons Asinorum, known as

THE FRESHMAN'S PUZZLE.

I knew a Trinity man of absent habits, who actually, after residing two years in college, having occasion to call upon an old school fellow, a scholar of Bene't (id est, Corpus Christi College,) before it was rebuilt, was so little acquainted with the localities of the university, that he was obliged to inquire his way, though not two hundred yards from Trinity. Such a man could scarcely be expected to know, what most Cantabs do, that Qui Church, which is situated about four miles from Cambridge, "rears its head" in rural simplicity in the midst of the open fields, seemingly without the "bills of mortality;" for not so much as a cottage keeps it in countenance. This gave occasion for a Cambridge wag to invent the following puzzle:

"Templum Qui stat in agris," Which has caused many a freshman a sleepless night, who, ignorant of the status QUI, has racked his brains to translate the above, minus a QUOD pro QUI.

A SLY HUMOURIST.

Edmund Gurnay, B.D., Fellow of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, in 1601, was a sly humourist. The Master had a great desire to get the garden to himself, and, either by threats or persuasion, get all the rest of the fellows to resign their keys; but upon his application to Gurnay, he absolutely refused to part with his right. "I have got the other fellows' keys, quoth the master. "Then pray, master, keep them, and you and I will shut them all out." "Sir, I expect to be obliged; am I not your master?" "Yes, sir (said Gurnay;) and am I not your fellow?" At another time he was complained of to the bishop, for refusing to wear the surplice, and was cited to appear before him, and told, that he expected he should always wear it; whereupon, he came home, and rode a journey with it on. This reminds me of

A STORY OF A NOBLE OXONIAN,

"I

Then Mr. afterwards Lord Lyttleton, to whom the epithet of "Reprobus," they say, might have been applied with more justice than it was to the famous Saxon Bishop, St. Wulstan, by the monks of his day. Humour was his lordship's natural element, and whilst resident at Christ Church, Oxford, he dressed himself in a bright scarlet hunting coat, top-boots and spurs, buckskin breeches, &c., and putting his gown over all, presented himself to the head of his college, who was a strict disciplinarian. "Good God! Mr. Lyttleton," exclaimed the Dean, "this is not a dress fit to be seen in a college." beg your pardon," said the wag, "I thought myself in perfect costume! Will you be pleased to tell me how I should dress, Mr. Dean?" The dean was at this time Vice-Chancellor, and happened to be in his robes of office. "You should dress like me, Sir," said the Doctor, referring to his black coat, tights, knee-buckles, and silk stockings. Mr. Lyttleton thanked him and left, but to the Doctor's astonishment, he the next day presented himself at the Deanery, drest in Vice-Chancellor's robes, &c., an exact fac-simile of the dean himself, and when rebuked coolly observed, that he had followed the dean's directions to the letter.